


Under the Shape of Years

by patster223



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Other, Post-September hang-out, Spoilers for most of COUNTER/Weight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:57:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patster223/pseuds/patster223
Summary: “Are you telling me to get off your lawn?” Mako says. “Those gray hairs really aren’t for show, huh?”“It’s been a rough few years,” Cass admits.Cass and Mako hook up again, on a beach four years after September.





	Under the Shape of Years

Cass leans back and digs their toes into the sand. They can hardly remember the last time they sat on a true, Apostolosian beach, rather than the artificial ones of Counterweight.

Cass wrinkles their nose at the memory. Mako used to accuse them of being picky, but the sand on those beaches just _feels_ wrong—it is without texture, like uncomplicated silk that threatens to give way beneath Cass’ weight. They’d missed _this_ sand: the kind that comes in damp, uneven clumps that get caught between their toes.

“Wow, even when you’re lounging on a _beach_ , you’re still the moodiest person I know,” a voice calls from behind them.

Cass rolls their eyes. If Mako thinks that he’s being sneaky while riding his _motorized hoverboard_ behind their back, he’s just as foolish as he was on September.

“Maybe I’d be more relaxed if I could have some peace and quiet,” Cass mutters.

Mako hovers into Cass’ sightline. He’s grinning, his feet dangling just above the sand Cass has buried their feet in.

“Are you telling me to get off your lawn?” Mako says. “Those gray hairs really aren’t for show, huh?”

“It’s been a rough few years,” Cass admits.

Now it’s Mako’s turn to roll his eyes. “I mean, no duh--we’re trying to stop the end of the _world._ It’s been kind of hectic for all of us. Except for maybe Aria, I guess.”

“Yeha, well. Aria has always known how to flourish.”

“And us?”

The Ring of Saturn inches forward so that it hovers above Cass’s torso. Mako’s dangling feet are now pressed lightly against their chest.

Cass snorts. “We’re a washed up prince and a genetically engineered hacker. I’ve never known what happens to us.”

“ _Former_ washed up prince—you’re just regular old royalty now. Or whatever the Demarchy is calling it,” Mako says. He tries to poke Cass’ crown with his toes before Cass pushes his feet away. “Stop being so stuck in the past.”

Easy for Mako to say. Cass knows that finding out one is a clone isn’t an _enviable_ position, but, still—Mako is someone who was born free of legacy. He has no parents, deceased or otherwise, to appease; and the only planet he ever could’ve been obliged to no longer exists.

It isn’t an enviable position, but Cass finds themself envying him nonetheless.

Mako taps his foot against Cass’ chest one more time before pulling his legs up. He lays down on the Ring of Saturn so that his body mirrors Cass’ own, both of them recumbent and languid. The Saturn lowers and Mako leans his head over the side, and suddenly they’re only inches away from each other. Mako’s eyes drift up and down Cass’ body, his gaze slow and unfocused as if the man were trying to fog Cass, trying to see what made them tick.

Cass inhales and they can taste the salt of Mako’s sweat mingling with the salt of the sea.

“What?” Cass asks.

“You’re still remembering it all.”

Cass takes another breath. More salt, along with a sweet, familiar strawberry scent coming from Mako’s hair.  

“Then make me forget.”

The Saturn lowers once more and Mako’s lips meet Cass’ for the first time in years. Cass sighs into Mako’s mouth. It’s been so long since they’ve done this—it’s been so long since the days before September.

But they still remember. They remember how easily Mako’s body shifted at Cass’ command—and even now, it moves like water as Cass pulls Mako off the Saturn and onto their lap. They remember how a mere nip behind the ear left Mako whimpering—and so it does now, when Cass moves to kiss their way up Mako’s neck. They remember the imperfect ways their bodies slotted together, simply because neither of them had the patience to get it quite right—and even now, on this quiet beach with the enemy at bay—for now, for now, for now—they bump their hands and lips against each other with relentless and imprecise fervor.

Mako’s calloused fingers attend to the curves of Cass’ body while grainy sand scratches at Cass’ back—they’re surrounded on all sides by harsh sensation, and it feels so _good_ after years of sitting on the cushioned seats of diplomats.

Cass gasps as Mako slides a hand down their pants. They place a trembling hand on the back of Mako’s neck and press their foreheads together. Mako’s eyes are sharp now: darting all over Cass’ face as if to memorize them.

Memorizing things is dangerous for Cass—as Mako pointed out, their mind tends to linger on the past. Still, they kiss Mako and run a hand through stiff, yellow hair, and they try to memorize this moment too. And it is so _easy_ to commit to memory: the taste of Mako, sweet and salty, on their lips; the harmony of Mako’s sighs and gasps mingling with the crashing of waves; the sand against Cass’ feet and back that grounds them as they move their hands and hips and lips, that gives them something to hold onto until they finally feel ready to let go--to just let go.

Mako continues to lay on top of Cass afterward. Cass doesn’t complain—the weight is solid and real, another thing to keep them grounded in this moment.

“I made you forget,” Mako says, grinning into Cass’ chest. “See, I always told you I was good for things other than fogging.”

“I always knew that,” Cass says mildly. “As I recall, you were good at getting us into trouble too.”

Mako snorts. “More like getting you all _out_ of trouble.”

“Mmhm.”

Cass begins running a hand through Mako’s hair, combing through the knotted, damp strands and getting out the sand. Mako’s eyes become unfocused again and he hums in pleasure.

“That’s nice,” Mako says. “You’re good at this.”

“I always told you I was good for things other than piloting a mech,” Cass says, smiling despite themself.

“I always knew that,” Mako says with a smirk that matches Cass’ own. “As I recall, you were good at being rude and bossy too.”

Cass laughs and continues to pet Mako’s hair. Thanks to Cass’ ministrations, it’s smoother now, soft against their hands. Cass dig their toes into the sand and, after glancing back to see what Cass is doing, Mako’s feet join theirs.

After a while of this, however, Mako sighs and murmurs, “I should get back soon. I don’t want the other Makos to worry.”

“Wow.” Cass blinks. “Not wanting to worry people, that’s…new.”

“It’s so _weird_ ,” Mako says, scrunching up his nose and burying his feet further into the sand. “I’m, like, responsible for them.”

“I know the feeling,” Cass says dryly. “Though it’s probably easier taking care of a demarchy than it is taking care of half a dozen Mako Trigs.”

“I’d say you took care of me pretty well tonight,” Mako says with a waggle of eyebrows. Then he shrugs. “Nah, the other Makos are fine. I mean, they’re not fine, they’re kind of a pain in the ass-”

“ _Oh,_ you are getting your just desserts these days-”

Mako digs his chin into Cass’ chest. “But I still _like_ them. It’s just _weird_ to be around them. They’re me, but, like, if none of the bad stuff had happened.”

Cass keeps petting Mako’s hair with one hand, but with the other, they hug Mako closer to them.

“And you say I’m stuck in the past,” Cass says softly.

“Oh, like _you’ve_ never wondered what you’d be like without all the baggage.”

“Of course I wonder,” Cass says. “I used to wonder all the time.”

“…And?” Mako asks.

“And I’m deeply jealous of that person,” Cass admits. “I think I always will be. But that Cass also doesn’t know Mako or Aria. They never knew AuDy. I…I can’t even imagine who that person _is._ That doesn’t mean that they wouldn’t be happier than me, but…that’s not something I know how to want anymore.”

Mako’s eyes meet Cass’ again, their gaze still sharp despite his lazy pose. “And what do you want?”

Peace? Love? God, how is Cass supposed to know? They aren’t Aria Joie or Mako Trig—there is no grand vision in their mind, and they’ve certainly never imagined anything new into being like Mako did in the mesh. All they’ve ever wanted is to keep everything under control.

“I want Apostolos to be safe,” Cass finally says. “I want sand under my feet. And I want the people I love to be there, when they can be.”

“I like the first and third one,” Mako says. “Not so sure about the second, seems kind of messy.” Mako wiggles his toes and Cass can feel the motion vibrating and breaking up the sand. “It all sounds manageable enough though.”

Cass raises an eyebrow. “You think so? Like, you remember our current situation, right?”

“Yeah, it _sucks,_ but you’re the plan guy, right? Just do your plan thing.”

Cass laughs and twists their bodies so that Mako lays beneath them, surrounded by sand and Cassander.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cass says. “Right now, though, my plan is to keep you here so we can avoid any more diplomatic disasters.”

They nod to Mako’s discarded, clear, plastic, and frankly _heinous_ shirt.

Mako makes a sound like he’s about to protest, but his initial arguments die out underneath Cass’ lips. When they finally come up for air, he grins and manages, “Come to think of it, I _do_ love it when a plan comes together.”

_Yeah,_ Cass thinks, digging elbows and feet back into the sand so that they can keep their balance as they kiss Mako, _Me too._


End file.
